


it will shock you how much it never happened

by spock



Category: 7 Days In Hell (2015)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mad Men Fusion, Crack Treated Seriously, Dirty Talk, Inappropriate Behavior, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Office Sex, Open Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Sexual Tension, Topping from the Bottom, Yuleporn, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caspian does so love it when Charles calls him <i>sir</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it will shock you how much it never happened

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabeld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabeld/gifts).



It's through an act of what Caspian considers to be some of his most dastardly finagling that he extends a standing invitation for Charles to come 'round to the studio whenever he's free from his tennis lessons. He assures Mrs. Poole that it is of the utmost importance that Charles should show up more often than not, citing the guise of media training, which none who have met Charles can ever claim he doesn't need.

The whole thing is genius, really.

"Um, Mr. Wint. Shouldn't I wear a suit?" Charles points down to the tennis shorts he'd come in wearing earlier that afternoon. They ride up and expose the creamy, unsullied whiteness of his thighs each time that he bends down, and ensure that the scarring on his knees from his various spills on the court are always on display.

"Shh, darling," Caspian says, and then uses the tip of a lone finger to shove another file off his desk and onto the floor. "Drat. Be a dear and pick that up, won't you?"

 

*

 

An older lad starts showing up one day, quite out of the blue. He's supposedly the American third or fourth cousin of one of the cameramen, whom had found himself a spot of trouble and needed to be ferreted away whilst the dust settled in his wake. Caspian's never been one to ask questions whenever a camera isn't rolling, but a gentle prodding of the office's gossip reveals to him that the boy's last name is Williams, of _the_ Williams', and it all makes much more sense.

Caspian doesn't give the Williams boy much thought after that; he's not exactly pretty enough for Caspian's taste.

Still, the _Good Sport_ offices are only so large. They were due to have a run in with one another eventually. Caspian rather wishes that it hadn't been in the lift, though.

"Caspian," the Williams boy says in greeting. He's smiling wide and his hair is hideous, but en vogue. Caspian cannot wait for the Eighties to pass them, ideally taking all of their horrible trends with it. He is ever so glad that Charles seems to relish the classics, just as Caspian himself does. The Williams boy does fill-out a suit well, though.

He eyes Williams rather distastefully and corrects him by saying, "Mr. Wint, please." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cigarette case, lighting one up. His floor cannot come sure enough.

"Sure," Williams agrees. "Sir, I don't think we've had the chance to meet! I'm Aaron Williams."

"Charmed." Thankfully, blissfully, they've arrived at his floor. The doors open and reveal — Charles. Caspian is tempted to stay on and ride down with him. Or just ride him, full stop.

"Well it was lovely speaking with you, Williams," Caspian says, turning to wave the boy out of the compartment, but it would seem that he's already been forgotten.

Williams grabs hold of Charles' shoulder, pulls him into a one-armed hug, and says, "Chuck!" Charles' body tenses up uncomfortably but he doesn't try to move away.

"Uh, hello, Aaron. I like your tie?" Nearly half of everything Charles says comes out sounding like a question. He is delightfully thick, in every possible meaning of the word. A glance at Williams tells Caspian that he isn't the only one who thinks so.

Curling his lip with mild disgust, Caspian says, "Oh, do you two know one another?"

"Sure, we're practically going to be rivals, aren't we?" Williams grins. Charles looks confused as to what the meaning of 'rival' might be. Caspian must put an end to this at once.

"Yes, well." Caspian stuffs the end of his cigarette into his mouth and wraps his hand around Charles' free hand, tugging him away from Williams' hold. "Charles, I'm going to need you to type up some prospective questions for the guest I'll be having on tomorrow. Joan's taking care of her mother this week so it seems I'll be without a secretary."

Charles looks especially disconcerted. As does Williams. "I wouldn't mind helping him out, Mr. Wint."

"Thank you my boy, but I'm sure Charles can manage," Caspian says, and then all but drags Charles off the lift and down the hallway towards his corner office.

Charles most certainly won't manage, but Caspian doesn't mind. He does quite like to see the boy struggle.

 

*

 

Pressing the buzzer on his intercom, Caspian says, "Charles, could you come in here for a moment?" He picks at his fingernails as he waits. He asks Charles to fix him a drink once the boy enters his office.

"I've been thinking about going away this weekend," Caspian says. He glances out the window and does his best to look unaffected. "I've been feeling quite nostalgic for a bit of shrubbery. How long has it been since you had a chance to practice on grass, my dear boy? Mayhap you should join me."

Charles looks startled. He sets Caspian's drink on the wood of his desk, even though there's a coaster not a few centimeters away. Caspian _hmms_ in displeasure and Charles awkwardly jolts forward to move it. Once he does, Caspian smiles at him indulgently and picks it up himself, bringing it to his lips for a drink.

"Aaron and I were going to practice at playing doubles this weekend, sir," Charles says, looking guilty.

Caspian so loves it when he calls him _sir_. He cannot believe it's now been sullied with such terrible news. " _Doubles_!" Caspian shouts, aghast. "And how does Louisa feel about this development?"

Charles stares at him blankly.

"Your mother," Caspian says.

"Oh!" Charles shifts to sit his tight little bum against the edge of Caspian's desk and it makes the fabric around his groin pull tight. Caspian is almost certain that he can make out the head of his manhood. During the first few days of Charles' internship, Caspian had told him that Fred Perry had privately credited much of his success to never wearing pants, hoping for this exact development. Eager little thing that Charles is, Caspian was all but assured that Charles would start to do the same. "Mum says that Doubles are a good way for me to rack up more trophies and sponsorships. I, uh, I can always sabotage Aaron for singles matches if I need to, too?

The rage inside of him swells. Caspian keeps a pleasant smile on his face.

"Do you smell fire?" Charles sounds alarmed.

"It's the furnace that burns inside of me, dear." He knocks back the rest of his drink and waves a hand towards the door. "That'll be all for now."

Charles turns to walk away, but then Caspian has an idea. "Oh actually, Charles, do come back for a moment. This damn chair has been feeling terribly wobbly lately. Come sit in my lap and let’s see if that finally does it in."

Wonderfully, terrifically thick as Charles is, he doesn't question the request in the slightest. He sits himself down in Caspian's lap and waits quietly for the chair to fall in on itself. Caspian curls his hand around Charles' waist and lets his fingers tuck into the band of his shorts. "How strange," Caspian says. "Maybe we should try rocking it? Squirm around my lap for a second, my dear boy."

Charles does.

Crackerjack.

 

*

 

Caspian's therapist comes by the office every Wednesday at five-fifteen. Caspian's quite aware of his shortcomings, but he uses it as an excuse to delve deep into the philosophical side of his current problems.

"I want to fuck him like I'm getting paid to do it," he says, wisp of smoke leaking out from between his lips.

"Uh," Ken says.

"Well it would be more accurate to say that I would like for him to fuck me, of course. And I'd certainly pay him to do it." Caspian laughs at his own joke and fumbles with the button of his coat a few times before it finally comes undone. "I've stood next to him at the toilets, you know. Heavens but does that lad have a big cock. Imagine if he clubbed me over the head with it and dragged me back to his lair."

 

*

 

Caspian watches Charles laughing at something Williams said from across the office and it puts him in a mood for the rest of the day. He decides that playing hard to get might just be the solution to his problems, and makes sure to go out of his way to avoid Charles at all costs.

Charles, of course, doesn't notice. Williams, however, does.

"And how are you doing today, sir?" Williams asks as the both of them wait for their turn at the coffee carafe, not even an hour after the laughing incident.

"Not great, Williams!" Caspian says, and then stomps away.

The day doesn't get much better from that point onwards. Around noon he starts to miss Charles' blank face. At one, he begins to feel melancholy about it all, and by one-thirty he's decided to forgive Charles of his transgressions entirely.

He wanders through the office searching for him, eventually finding him in the break room. With Williams. Worse, Caspian can see their their knees are touching beneath the table. Above it, Williams plays with Charles fingers.

"So did you two have a nice weekend? What was it you set out to do?" Caspian aggressively pulls a cigarette from his case and stuffs it into the corner of his mouth, patting down his suit jacket for something to light it with. "Oh, that's right," he drawls, still unable to find hide nor hair of so much as a match. " _doubles_ , was it?"

Charles smiles and says, "Yeah! It was great." It's as animated as Caspian has ever seen him.

"You can use my lighter, Mr. Wint," Williams says, hand outstretched.

"Villain," Caspian spits at him, and stomps away.

 

*

 

He invites Louisa and Charles out to dinner, entirely for the purposes of interrogating Charles. Lousia, of course, notices, though she hardly cares.

"Have you found yourself another gi—g—erm, girlfriend yet, Charles?" He asks.

Charles stares at him blankly for a moment before muttering _no_. Caspian won't be so easily discouraged.

"Come now, we're not at work. You can tell me," Caspian says, letting hit knee tap Charles', the action shielded by table cloth draped across the table. "Is just us. Two friends, surely" he adds conspiratorially.

"And my mum," Charles says, awkwardly.

"Of course! No good date goes unchaperoned, after all!" Caspian titters at his own joke, Lousia joining in as well. He uses it as an excuse to run his hand down Charles' face, thumb catching on Charles' lip for a moment. The boy's softer and smoother than Parisian silk.

"I don't see how he could, Caspian, in all honesty. When he's not practicing he's either at work with you, or out doing Doubles work with that Aaron Williams boy," Louisa says.

Caspian's glass shatters in his hand. Charles stares at it confusedly, clearly at a loss for what could make it break. "Oh, so are the two of you close?"

Charles seems conflicted for a moment. "Indubitably," he says, finally, after a few moments of silence. Caspian regrets ever having taught him the word.

 

*

 

There's no way that he can play tennis with the boy, so Williams has him bested in that regard. Caspian settles on doing the next best thing.

"Charles," he says, "You've been doing quite well in the rankings, have you not? Perhaps it's about time we get you in front of the camera, see if my tutelage has stuck."

"Um," Charles says. "Alright?"

"That's so cool!" Williams seems to have materialized out of thin air. "Do you think that maybe I could get a spot next week?"

"Oh, Williams." Caspian puts his hand on the boy's shoulder, patting it awkwardly. "I'm not quite sure the British public has even heard of you just yet, dear boy. Surely an American outlet would be more apt? Speaking of, have we gotten that visa of yours on file yet? I remember our Harry down in Human Resources asking me about it the other day."

The color drains from Williams' face. Caspian smiles. It would seem that he lobbed an ace.

 

*

 

"You've got like, really great abs."

Caspian doesn't know what it says about him that he keeps stumbling in on these private moments between Charles and the Williams boy. He should probably be used to it by now, yet it never fails to push him into a murderous rage.

"Thanks?" Charles says.

"It was really nice of you to say that I'm one of your role models." Williams actually sounds sincere about it.

Charles looks at him, confusedly, "Well, yeah. You told me to. I ad-libbed the favorite person bit." Charles looks rather chuffed with himself. Caspian would be proud that he remembered what ad-libbing is, let alone the word itself, but the context around it rather sours the feeling for him.

Williams goes quiet for a moment, and then a shy look overtakes his face. He says, "Could I see your abs again? "

"Oh, yeah, 'course." Charles lifts his shirt up, just as he had done more than a few times on the broadcast earlier in the evening. Caspian lets out a breathy sigh. They are quite marvelous, even looking at them from a distance.

Williams traces the defined indentations of them with the tip of his finger. Caspian can see the way Charles shudders. He seethes with jealousy. "I really want to suck you off," Williams says. "Would that be okay?"

"Indubitably," Charles says, though he looks shocked when Williams drops to his knees and yanks his shorts down to his feet. Caspian deduces that Charles had no idea what _sucking off_ meant. He is clearly God's gift to Caspian, and Williams is sullying him before Caspian has even had the chance.

With a put upon sigh, Caspian dips his hand into his own suit trousers and fondles himself. For three hours he watches Williams go down on Charles, making the boy come over and over again. Caspian himself only manages to come the once, so he spends the rest of his time smoking and mentally critiquing Williams' technique.

 

*

 

Caspian had pitched the interview to Louisa as a favor, and he collects on it the following week-end.

"Send Charles around to mine around tea time," he requests of her. She agrees with a smile, and then books herself a spa day.

He makes sure to stock up on all the boy's favorite biscuits and treats, and then spends the three days leading up to Saturday drinking nothing but pineapple juice.

"Now Charles," Caspian says, wiping his mouth of any spare crumbs. "I've noticed that you've gotten quite close with the Williams boy. Are you overly fond of him?"

"Not really?" Charles says. It's the best thing Caspian's heard all week.

"Oh?" Caspian shifts his chair closer to Charles'. "Whatever do you mean? He does seem to like you."

"I think he might be a bit better at tennis than me," Charles says in a rush. "And he's always trying to kiss me. He says that the reason I was bad at sex with Lily is probably because I'm gay, but whenever I ask him to let me suck him off to make sure, he runs away."

This is, in the most base of terms, the shit that Caspian lives for. "Oh _poppet_ ," Caspian says, not meaning even an ounce of the lament he drowns the word in. "I had no idea things were so strained between the two of you! What is it that you do in bed?"

"He really likes giving me head and fingering me," Charles tells him, sounding put-off by it all. "Sometimes he'll even lick my — um."

"Oh yes, I quite know what you mean." Caspian downs the rest of his drink in one go and then shoves his chair back from the table a ways. "Charles, would you mind terribly if I wanked while you told me this?"

"Uh," Charles says. "No? Go ahead."

Caspian frees himself from the confines of his trousers and motions for Charles to continue on. "What else does he do to you, dear?" He listens to Charles tell him about their late night trysts for just as long as it takes his cock to fill itself up with blood. "So you say he won't actually let you reciprocate on him?" Caspian prompts.

"No!" Charles frowns, one of his few expressions. "I think I'd be rather good at it?"

"Oh, darling." Caspian pets at his hair. "Of course you would. Well, we can’t let this stand, I think. You're welcome to practice on me." Charles looks excited at the prospect.

Feeding his cock into Charles' plush mouth feels like the best sort of accomplishment.

Later that night, as he guides Charles through fucking him, spitting out directions like the world's most invested drill sergeant, it feels like victory.

 

*

 

Caspian makes sure that he and Charles are seen by all as they enter the office together on Monday morning. He also is careful to put a jump in his step. He instructs Charles to do the same, but they boy looks at him blankly, so Caspian pinches his arse as they exit the lift and it has the same general effect.

From across the office, Williams seethes.

 

*

 

Being gracious in ones victory only leads to people staying unaware of said victory, and so Caspian is sure to never fall into such humility. He keeps Charles by his side, one hand planted in the small of Charles' back, oftentimes toying with the edge of his shirt.

He sees Williams lurking just outside of his office window, saying something to Joan, and turns to Charles to say, "Give us a kiss, dear, and then how about you fetch me a cup of tea, hmm?"

Charles similes and does just that. Caspian watches as he avoids Williams eyes as he scampers out of Caspian's office and off to the carafe that they keep in the break room. When Williams turns to look at Caspian, he gives the boy his jauntiest of waves.

When Charles comes back with tea for two, he has the boy sit on his lap and feed Caspian's drink to him. Williams is long gone, but he doesn't let that stop him from stuffing his hand up Charles' shirt to pet at his marvelous abdominals.

 

*

 

Williams spills coffee all over himself. Absent of even a drop of shame or modesty, he takes his clothes off right in the middle of the hallway until he's left in nothing but his pants, which of course are two sizes too small and leave nothing to the imagination. Charles is so distracted that he runs into Caspian's glass door.

"Diabolical," Caspian says, and then he looks his fill, because beneath those suits it would seem that Williams isn't so bad after all.

He doesn't think about it again.

 

*

 

At lunchtime the entire office staff seems to have cleared in its entirety, leaving Caspian at a loss for what to do with the copies he needs made. Even Charles is naught to be found, though he wouldn't be of much use on the copying front.

Caspian stalks to the copy room and opens to door — to the sight of Charles and Williams engaged in sexual congress overtop of the copy machine.

Williams notices him first, though Caspian has no idea how he manages it. He can hardly keep his eyes open when Charles buggers him at the pace he's going at now, and the few times that he does manage it, his eyes never quite seem to uncross themselves.

"Suger för att vara dig," Williams says. Caspian has no idea what a single bit of it means, but he scowls anyway.

"Say more stuff," Charles says, begging. He grabs both of Williams' shoulders and makes sure that Williams' ass is flush against his hips before he starts making a rolling motion, no longer thrusting and instead grinding into him. Caspian feels rather betrayed. He'd been the one to show Charles that move and now it feels as if it's being used against him.

"He doesn't even like you," Caspian says to Williams, alerting Charles to his presence. Charles startles but never stops moving his hips, which of course Caspian taught him to do too.

Williams lifts his head so that he can look at Caspian over Charles' rather impressive and bulging biceps, "Din jävel!"

Caspian sniffs, "Yes, well that's all well and good, but it doesn't change that he doesn't care for you in the slightest."

"Is that true?" Williams asks. Charles looks sheepish as he nods, and even that action seems to be punctuated in question, like he isn't quite sure. Not once does he falter in his fucking. "Well you know what? Fuck it, I don't care. Liking, disliking, it's all like, feeling, right?"

Caspian supposes that, in a way, it's a rather sweet sentiment.

He's still going to look forward to tearing them apart, however.

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly was going to just write you straight-forward caspian creeping on charles, but then i saw that you liked ridiculous fusions. _then_ i noticed that you also requested mad men, and thought to myself, "no." 
> 
> i thought about it some more: about how an internship at a sports media outlet office would be good for not-educated!charles and hot-mess!aaron as they built up their tennis careers. which led me to realizing that caspian is rather like roger sterling in a way, and charles would make a good pete campbell/roger's-squeeze-of-the-season, which of course meant aaron would be bob benson. 
> 
> and so i told myself, "yes." happy yuletide!


End file.
